


Flawless

by Chichirinoda



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chichirinoda/pseuds/Chichirinoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean Renard woke up like this. </p>
<p>(Sorry, Beyonce)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flawless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Asselin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asselin/gifts).



The room Sean Renard had set aside for the working of spells was not technically a part of his apartment. The main apartment was a spacious penthouse suite, with a large veranda that was part of the roof of the building where he lived. In a corner of the room was a small maintenance shed. A forgotten corner that probably wasn’t meant to be listed on the lease. When Sean bought the apartment, he had made sure the square footage and layout included that lonely corner.

The shed had once held tools for the maintenance of the building, but now the shelves were stuffed with herbs and spices, the skulls of animals and crystals and precious stones, clay bowls and spoons, and in the centre of the room, a large cauldron. 

Sean didn’t practice his art very often, but when he did, the smell of burning spices and the stink of magic sank into every part of his surroundings. That was why he liked to have his spellcasting room at a remove from his home. Tonight the smoke billowing from the cauldron had a sulpherous stench, and Sean was glad he was wearing an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt he’d once painted a room in. Not clothes he’d let anyone else see him in anyway, and now he’d probably just throw them away.

He wasn’t really sure why it was smoking so much, though. He raked a poker through the coals under the cauldron, stoking the fire, and added a few drops of feverfew and a sprig of willowleaf. Neither helped to calm the smoke, and he was eventually forced to douse the fire and open up the doors and windows before he fled the room, coughing.

With a grimace, he tossed his clothes in the trash bin and showered off the last of the smell. It was late, and he was tired. Maybe that was why the spell had gone awry. 

He collapsed in the centre of his bed and fell asleep.

* * *

Sean Renard was used to sleeping alone. He’d done it pretty much his whole life. Even his trysts with Adalind had lasted scarcely a night. He and Adalind had never woken slowly with the warming of the dawn sunlight through the shades, a gentle hand flung over Sean’s chest and the blankets heaped on top of them, the tickle of soft, regular breathing against Sean’s neck.

Which was why the first thing he did when he became aware of it, was reach for his gun.

His hand crashed against something hard, which gave way and crashed to the floor with the distinctive tinkling of a broken lightbulb - a lamp, then - and Sean was on his feet, staring around a room he had only visited once. He hadn’t found a gun, but his bedmate had, and Sean glimpsed the yawning black pit of the barrel before the gun swung away and around the room, the gun’s owner searching the darkened room for signs of danger for the span of a few rapid beats of his heart. Then the gun was put back down on the bedside table, and confused blue eyes turned up towards Sean once more. 

There was no sign of twin yawning black pits in Nick Burkhardt’s face, so that meant Sean hadn’t woked in surprise. He felt it was a near thing, and he took a few deep breaths, trying to regain his control. Why the hell was he here?

“Juliette?” Nick asked, befuddled, and covered his face with a hand. “Jesus Christ, you scared me. Are you okay? You broke the lamp.”

_Juliette?_ Sean Renard looked around for Nick’s girlfriend with more than a little trepidation, but there was no sign of the redhead. “Nick? What is going on?”

“You tell me.” Nick swung his legs off the bed and got up. Sean prepared to avert his gaze, but thankfully he was wearing a set of sweatpants. 

It was approximately at that moment that Sean realized he was wearing a silk nightgown. 

And that he had breasts. And was a woman.

He was still gaping down at himself when Nick’s arms slipped around him. “Was it a dream?” the young Grimm murmured, smoothing fingers through Sean’s long hair.

“Oh god, Nick, wait. Just wait.” Sean grabbed Nick by the shoulders - such shapely, long-fingered hands, perfect for surgery on small animals - and firmly detached his subordinate.

Nick looked confused, and just a bit bruised by the action. Sean could understand why. It hadn’t been so very long ago that Nick had been sleeping on the sofa, though the two of them had repaired their relationship, it seemed. There might still be a little trouble in paradise - a situation which, Sean reminded himself, was emphatically not his business. Ever. Again.

“Nick, I’m not Juliette,” Sean said, and watched the Grimm’s eyes widen. “I’m Sean Renard.”

“What?” Nick jerked out of his grip, which was perfectly fine, but his expression turned slightly angry, which really wasn’t. “Not Adalind again?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Sean said sourly. “It seems like the sort of thing she’d do, especially since she’s not exactly happy with me at the moment. But Adalind isn’t in the country so far as I know.” He was inclined to assume Adalind was too busy dealing with the royal family to get up to this kind of petty trickery. But you never really knew with her.

Could this be related to the spell he’d been casting the night before? No, that was impossible. It had been a transformation draught, but nothing like this. For a spell to have changed him into Juliette, he would have had to include something of Juliette in the potion, at the very least, and he hadn’t had anything of Juliette with him. He certainly hadn’t put any part of her, no hair or fingernails, no article of clothing or a significant piece of jewellery. Sean had nothing of hers.

“Where’s Juliette?” Nick demanded worriedly.

“Nick? Who are you talking to?” Juliette opened the door to the bathroom, sleepy-eyed and wrapped in a terrycloth robe. She took one look at Sean and yelped, jerking back. A moment later, she advanced with anger flashing in her eyes. “Adalind?”

“It’s okay,” Nick said quickly. “It’s Captain Renard.”

“For some definition of okay,” Sean said grumpily. 

He met Juliette’s eyes, and watched her searching his face, searching his eyes for the truth of what he said. Finally, she looked away, looked down with a sigh. He could imagine what she was thinking - that these sorts of things were becoming almost commonplace in her life. “Let me get you something to wear, Sean,” she said tiredly, and moved to her closet.

“Thanks.” Sean looked at Nick, who was looking everywhere but at him. At least they knew Juliette was safe, and wasn’t inhabiting Sean’s own body in his penthouse apartment downtown. Sean opened his mouth to speak, but Nick beat him to it.

“Now what do we do?”

Cool fingers touched Sean’s shoulder, and he found Juliette next to him, offering a stack of clothing - neatly folded shirt, jeans, with bra and lacy underwear on top. Sean took them with a faint smile of thanks, and headed for the bathroom. “First, I’m going to get dressed. Then I’m going to get my things.”

“Your things?” asked Juliette.

“Spell casting things,” Nick said. 

“Ah.”

Sean closed the bathroom door and started to dress. They were Juliette’s clothes and fit Juliette’s body. He still felt uncomfortable. Nothing moved right, felt right. He’d touched this body before, though now he felt little attraction to it - not none, Juliette was an attractive woman, but the obsession he’d had was gone. But the feeling of touching the soft breasts as he wrapped them in a lacy underwire bra was completely different from his memory - tangled up in the sensation of hands touching his own chest.

Nick’s voice came through the door. “Hey, Renard? I think we should go to Rosalee’s shop. Maybe she’ll have an idea.”

Sean pulled the shirt over his head and tugged it down, then opened the door. The last thing he really wanted was for anyone to see him like this - Nick Burkhardt was bad enough. But he was right. Sean had no idea what had happened to him, and Rosalee Calvert had always been a good resource. 

“Yes, I agree,” he said. He looked around, but there was no sign of Juliette.

Nick looked Sean up and down, and his lips crooked in a wry smile. “You want breakfast first?”

“I really don’t.” Sean sat down on the bed, pulled on a pair of soft white socks. “Shall I meet you there?” 

Nick shook his head. “I’ll drive you.” At the look on Sean’s face, he added quickly and earnestly, “Look, someone targetted you, and we don’t know who. If it’s Adalind, that’s bad enough, but if it’s not, we have no idea who it is, and that could be worse.”

Sean looked up. He felt like he was hanging onto his control by a thread. Some time alone would help, but Nick was looking at him with a gentle concern, and it occurred to the police captain that he had no idea how he’d gotten here. His car was probably at home, nowhere near the suburban house where Nick lived. Anyway, Nick was right, and what he hadn’t said was that Nick and Juliette had also been targetted - Sean had been placed in their bed, after all.

He swallowed and rose, forcing a smile. “Okay. Let’s go.”

* * *

They went first to Sean’s apartment. With slight reluctance, Sean took Nick to his shed on the roof. The smell in the room, a smell of burned herbs, sulfur, and cooked meat, was strong enough that both men covered their mouths and noses as they went inside.

“Jeez, Renard, what did you do in here?”

“I screwed up a spell.” He picked up a bottle and dipped it into the remains at the bottom of the cauldron, filling it with a foul yellow sludge. Then he capped it. 

“Is this why you look like Juliette?” Nick asked, looking around with watering eyes at the items on the shelves.

“I don’t think so.” Sean sighed. “I thought about it, but I don’t think it’s possible.”

“Then why are you bottling that stuff?”

Sean shrugged. “Just in case I’m wrong.”

They exchanged awkward smiles, and headed back out to the car, carrying a bit of the spellcasting room with them, clinging to their clothing.

* * *

It wasn’t that far, as the crow flies, from Sean’s apartment to Rosalee’s shop. Nevertheless, Nick got a flat tire on the way. Sean had never actually changed a tire himself, so he stood by awkwardly and shivering as Nick did it, wondering why everything had to go wrong at once. There was a thin dusting of snow falling, the air crisp. Red and green and white lights twinkled on the houses around them, belying his own frustration.

It turned out only more wrong was awaiting them at the shop. By the time they arrived, they were both irritable about how their Saturday morning had turned out. Nick took the lead as they entered the shop, and stopped dead so suddenly that Sean almost ran into him. “What’s—”

A whole shelving unit had collapsed, spilling its contents all over the floor. Bottles had shattered, and spices spilled across the wood. A fragrance rose up, more pleasant than the one in Sean’s shed. It was spicy, of myrrh, camphor, and chili powder, among many other things, so strong that it tickled the nose and made him want to sneeze. The door was unlocked, but there was no sign of the proprietor.

Nick’s voice rose with uncertainty and fear. “Rosalee? Rosalee, are you here!”

There was a pause. Sean bent, picked up a cracked jar filled with caviar. Or possibly it was fairy’s eyes. Then he heard a faint call from the basement. “Nick? I’m down here.”

Sean made for the door, and beat Nick there this time, though only just. They hurried down the stairs in a clatter of footfalls, and Sean paused at the bottom. A flash of movement attracted his attention, and he saw a Fuchsbau emerge from behind a pile of crates.

“Why are you woked?” Sean asked, groping for a gun that he wasn’t wearing. 

Rosalee’s eyes widened. “You can really see it?”

“Of course I—” Sean paused. He looked like Juliette. “I’m not Juliette,” he said. “I’m Sean Renard.”

“Rosalee?” Nick had reached the bottom as well. “What’s going on?”

Rosalee was still staring at Sean as if she couldn’t believe her ears. Which, she probably couldn’t. Her eyes flicked to Nick, and then away again quickly. Sean imagined she could probably see his Grimm eyes, black pits in his face. She drew a breath. “I really don’t know… but maybe we should all sit down and start at the beginning, because I thought my day was weird, but that was _before_ you two walked in.”

Nick went upstairs to lock the door and turn the sign to ‘closed’. Rosalee refused to venture upstairs, in case a human saw her through the wide front windows. Soon, the three of them were sitting on crates in the shop’s basement, explaining the story of their morning from beginning to end.

Sean placed the small vial of potion on the crate in front of them. Rosalee picked it up and turned it over. “What was it supposed to be?”

“A disguise potion,” Sean said. “Minor glamour, in case someone wanted to look like someone else.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Like Juliette?”

“Like Juliette,” Sean acknowledged. “Except that it was impossible for the potion to make me look like Juliette. For one thing, it wasn’t finished, and it failed, spectacularly. For another, I never drank the potion. And for a third, I didn’t have anything of Juliette’s to put into the potion. Anyway, the potion wasn’t supposed to transform my body, and it should have worn off by now. It was just supposed to be a temporary disguise, an illusion. It just wasn’t potent enough to change a whole body permanently.”

Rosalee ran a hand over her furred face, little claws winking in the dim light. “Well, everything seemed normal when I saw Munroe off on his trip this morning, but just before you got here, everything went weird. All I was doing was putting together a spice blend for Mr. Singh, which he’s supposed to pick up in an hour. The only thing is, when I tasted it—” She gestured to herself. “I woked! And it hasn’t stopped!”

“What could cause something like this?” Nick asked. 

“Is this even _related_?” Sean asked, baffled. How could a weird body transformation have anything to do with Rosalee going into a permanent woking? But at the same time, his instincts told him it _was_ related.”

The three of them exchanged glances. Then Rosalee got to her feet, palming the vial with Sean’s potion. “I’m going to test this.”

Nick rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll cover the windows before you go upstairs, Rosalee.”

Sean glanced around. “I’ll look for a book.”

Two hours later, Sean and Nick were still sitting in the basement, eyes poring over Rosalee’s stash of books. Sean still looked like Juliette, and the bra was becoming actively uncomfortable. He itched, grimacing, and then quickly lowered his hand when Rosalee came thumping down the stairs, whiskers quivering with excitement.

“Spriggan!” said Rosalee.

“Oh shit,” said Sean.

“What?” said Nick.

Sean glared at his Grimm. “They’re tree sprites.”

“And they really, really like to cause mischief,” Rosalee added.

“So, they’re another kind of Wesen?” asked Nick.

Why did he always ask that?

Rosalee nodded, sighed, and sank down onto a crate, running her claws through her hair. “Captain Renard, I determined that your potion _was_ contaminated by something that turned it into a transformation potion. Then, I think it cooked down and concentrated, and was fed to you.”

Sean grimaced. “A spriggan came into my bedroom and force-fed me my own screwed up potion?”

Rosalee bit her lip. “…Yep. Seems that way.”

Sean got up. He felt the need to pace. As he walked in a small, irritated circle, he glanced at the Fuchsbau. “What did it do to you?”

“I think it switched the label on the braunspulver, with the nutmeg. Thank goodness I tasted it before I sold it to Mr. Singh!”

“What the heck is braunspulver?” Nick asked, closing his book. 

“It’s a drug harvested from nuts grown in the Black Forest,” Sean explained. “It has a side effect that causes a Wesen to lose control of their wok. In large concentrations, it can be highly addictive.”

“Okay,” Nick said, giving both of them a serious look. “So how do we reverse the effects? And how do we get rid of the spriggan?”

“It’s probably somewhere in the shop,” Rosalee said, glancing around uncertainly. “If we can convince it to leave us alone, the effects of the spells should also end. The potions we took alone shouldn’t be permanent, but they’ve lasted for hours longer than they should have, which means the spriggan is still here.”

As she fell silent, a soft giggle seemed to float towards them from somewhere in the back of the shop. Nick drew his sidearm.

“Nick, don’t,” Sean said, putting out his hand. “Spriggans have powerful magic. You won’t be able to hit it.”

“Anyway, if you do, we might very well be stuck like this,” Rosalee added, her voice rising.

“Okay, okay,” Nick said, holstering his gun, his eyes wide. “So what do we _do_?”

A voice spoke, high and wicked, and seeming to come from everywhere at once. “Give us your first born child, and maybe then I’ll go, hmm?”

Sean went cold. “Look, that’s not happening,” he said, his voice dropping to a growl. Could it know where Diana was, or was it just some kind of sick joke?

He felt Nick’s hand land on his shoulder, warm and firm.. “Easy, now,” he murmured. Sean drew a breath, glancing sidelong at the Grimm with gratitude. He couldn’t let the creepy thing rattle him. 

Rosalee walked a few steps deeper into the gloomy depths of the basement, eyes searching the darkness for any hint of movement. “Just tell us what you want. Please, we don’t have to fight. If we’ve done something to offend you, then let us know so we can amend it.”

“What I want?” The voice rasped. First on the right, then abruptly, to Sean’s left. “What I want? You ask what I want, when the forests are gasping their last. There’s metal and stone everywhere. And it all smells of human _filth_.”

Sean and Nick exchanged glances. “We could take you back to the forest,” Sean suggested. “The redwoods aren’t far.”

“No!” Suddenly an evil-looking little face peered at Sean from between two books. The skin was cracked like bark, and the eyes shone in the darkness like a cat’s. A gnarled finger pointed at him. “You, you will plant me a tree in your concrete jungle. That’ll do just nicely. Water it every night and I won’t _curse_ you again.”

Sean stiffened, feeling anger surge inside him. The spriggan seemed to sense it, and smiled. Every one of its teeth were yellowed and rotted, and it began to laugh. “I’ll curse you! I’ll curse you!” it crowed.

Good lord, he didn’t need this. “Fine!” Sean exclaimed, raising his hands in exasperation. “Fine, I’ll do it. I’ll plant you a tree. Okay?”

Still laughing, the spriggan suddenly vanished. The last thing Sean saw was its gaping mouth with its rotted teeth, like a twisted, leafy cheshire cat. 

“Damnit, wait!” Sean exclaimed, taking a step forward as if there was anything he could do to stop the freakish sprite from doing whatever it damn well pleased. He felt a sudden surge of vertigo, and his feet seemed to tangle together. He pitched forward, suddenly off balance, and he hit the shelving unit heavily. There was a tearing of fabric, and he raised his hands to protect his head against a sudden rain of heavy books.

When the dust cleared, he straightened, coughing, and looked at Rosalee. She looked human again, and he looked down at himself. He was himself again, and he’d not only ripped Juliette’s shirt up the side seam, but her pants had burst open as well. A bit of lace was peeking at his hip, and the bra strap was cutting hard into his ribs. He grimaced and groped for the clasp.

Rosalee gasped at him, then hurried forward. “Let me help you with that, Sean.”

Nick stared for a moment, then began to laugh. “Ah… Rosalee, do you think Munroe left a change of clothes here? His stuff might fit.”

Rosalee’s hands were shaking, and abruptly Sean realized she was trying to suppress laughter as well. “Just get it over with,” Sean growled, and she collapsed against him, giggling helplessly. With one hand, she waved weakly towards a closet, and Nick went - still chortling - to find Sean some clothes that fit.

Okay, maybe Sean smiled a bit, too, but not where they could see.

When he took off Juliette’s jeans, he found an apple seed in the pocket. That night, he planted it in the small plot of earth on the roof of his building. He had no idea if it would grow or not, but the spriggan didn’t come back, so he figured he’d fulfilled his bargain.

* * *

“He’s done it. He planted the seed.” The spriggan prostrated itself in front of her, trembling.

Adalind Schede smiled and patted the repulsive thing on the head. “Good. Your debt to me is fulfilled.” She glanced out the window as the creature vanished again. “Don’t forget to water it, Sean,” she murmured. “One day I’ll come to harvest its fruit.”


End file.
